


of broken heroes, and golden men

by SpaceOut



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Drug Use, Illnesses, It's kinda ooc, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Poor Tom honestly, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, This is literally all pain, Underage Drinking, accidental drug abuse, but barely, but i personally think it's okay enough to read, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 18:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7543468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceOut/pseuds/SpaceOut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas Jefferson was born in a storm in 1996, words scrawled upon his chest in tiny script. </p><p>He was no hero, he was not made of iron, he was not made of gold, he was stone in a never-ending storm-- He was cracked and bruised, but he loved all the same.</p><p>(People are heroes, even if they can only save themselves.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	of broken heroes, and golden men

**Author's Note:**

> This is on my blog on tumblr, Hamil-Time, under the name: Together.  
> don't fret

Thomas was born in the spring of 1996 in Monticello, Virginia.

There was a terrible, terrible storm that raged around the hospital that day.

He should have known it was a sign.

He really should have.

* * *

 

He was four when he noticed the scrawl that covered his side, something that his mom had, that his dad had. 

And Thomas hadn't a clue what it was.

When he asked his mother that night, she did not explain, but she read him a book from when she was younger. At first, he thought it was going to be stupid, because it was pink, and pop's always said that pink wasn't a manly color.

(Though, Thomas' favorite color was in fact pink, or really, magenta, not that he'd ever say that aloud.)

The story told of a young woman who was covered in writing from head to toe, no one was allowed to see her, since seeing a woman's soul mark was forbidden. So all the young lady had was books, books upon books, upon books. She lived to read.

And one day her father had dropped in a letter through the slot in her door, it was from a prince from a nearby kingdom. 

He was a writer.

And every single word he had written on that letter was etched across her skin. 

For days her smile glowed like the morning sun, as her prince was coming to save her.

Then, right before dinner one night, she felt a searing pain in her back.

The letters covering her body faded.

* * *

 

Thomas was seven when he had figure out all of the words on his chest, they were written in small, but brilliantly clear cursive. It spoke of writing, it spoke of time, it spoke of anger and the corrupt- it spoke of everything his mother feared he'd forget. 

Still, he never showed anyone his words, even his mother, who didn't know what the words said when he was younger because they were too small. 

He had met James Madison on his first year in Elementary School.

They were not soulmates, but they may as well have been.

* * *

 

Now flash forward two years, where Thomas can sometimes feel invisible punches being thrown at him, James Madison is constantly paranoid, and everyone thinks they're lying.

"Soulmates," His teacher snapped, "Have a bond that will stay with each other for life. They can feel a very small amount of what you're feeling. Not enough to cause pain. Not enough to make anyone fear something they had never feared before. So stop trying to get out of class with your fake pain."

Thomas snapped right back at her that there have been reports of soulmates being so closely tied to one another that if one died, so did the other. Not of a broken heart, but of whatever the other died from, or from pain of the other.

Ms. Ruins laughed at him and said that there hadn't been a case like that for over a century.

That didn't make the pain go away. It didn't stop the fact that Thomas knew his soulmate was in pain, and he couldn't do anything about it.

* * *

 

James Madison was constantly sick, everyone knew this, so it was only a matter of time before Thomas got sick as well.

He was thirteen when he became very ill. 

Nearly deathly ill.

Thomas was always a pretty healthy kid, so it was strange to be caught with such a terrible illness. And no one knew.

No one knew how it got so bad.

No one knew how to cure it.

No one knew about the paper that Thomas was writing during his days in the hospital.

(Except his only friend, James, of course.)

* * *

 

On his third week in the hospital he felt an unparalleled pain run through him, not physical. But something happened to his soulmate- he knew something did- and- and it-

Oh god, it hurt.

Thomas was delirious, James told him later, thrashing and calling out for someone, for anyone. 

And James stayed by him the whole time since both of their parents were at work.

(Sometimes Thomas had dreams where James was his soulmate and he didn't have to deal with all the other bullshit his real soulmate brought him through, then he felt terribly guilty.)

* * *

 

"Something terrible happened to them," Thomas whispered that night, James laying in the hospital bed next to him. "I don't know what...But I could feel it, James, I could feel their pain." He wiped at his eyes. "I still can."

James rolled over at looked at him, "I can too, sometimes, I'll get headaches from nowhere. Or feel strangely happy right before a test. Our teachers may say it's impossible, but we're living proof that it's not."  
Thomas thought of the paper he was writing, the letters he's drafted to his soulmate, how his heart and soul was woven within the words of them and-

Words, he knew words. He knew so many damn words- 

But he needed the right ones. 

He needed something- to fill the hole in his heart he needed-

* * *

 

His mind was a whirlpool.

Everything swirled around but there was one thing kept repeating-

James. 

James didn't need to know he wasn't strong enough. 

James didn't need to know that sometimes he felt like nothing mattered.

James didn't need to know about addiction.

James didn't need to know-

James didn't need to know why he was fifteen and was lying on the floor of his parents' bathroom while they were gone  _ again  _ and he was left to his mind.

At first the doctors said he needed them. So he took them. He resisted at first, because, dammit,  _ Thomas knew this would happen. _ He didn't want this to happen. He knew that this would hurt his soulmate. He knew this would hurt James. 

And it's been a year and a half and now he's-

He's a mess. There's no other word for it. His hands are shaking as he's opening the pill bottle  _ again _ \- 

And his head's spinning and-

There was a spark of _ hope _ , deep inside, that gave him shivers. 

Thomas put down the bottle and grabbed his phone.

_ Dialing James. _

* * *

 

It took under a year to get clean, he had James, and he had money, that's all he needed.

That's all he ever needed. 

_ It was his damn soulmates fault in the first place- _

(But, yet, his soulmate gave him the hope to go on.)

* * *

 

Months past, smiles shared, laughs loud, and dinners quiet. 

Thomas could feel his soulmate still, but ignored them for the most part. Focusing on his studies, so he and James were jumped ahead a year together. 

They were forever, even if nothing else was.

* * *

 

"I don't know what to do, Thomas."

"What happened?"

"I-I'm sick Thomas."

"Again? Do you have a fever? Are you-"

"It's not that kind of sickness, Tom."

"What is it, then?"

"I..."

* * *

 

Chemo was a nightmare, Thomas soon learned as James lay on top of him on the bed in the hospital, racked in shivers and sweating beads. He had his arms securely around his best friend at age sixteen.

Sixteen.

James couldn't die at sixteen.

They had the world to conquer together. 

James could survive something small as lung cancer.

He could swim, couldn't he?

"Thomas," James said quietly, his voice already weak muffled by Tom's shoulder. "You...You would forgive me?"

Thomas choked out a sob. "I'd never."

The taller teen curled around Thomas more, seeking a warmth that his body was trying so hard to expel. "Then...Write me. Write to me."

Thomas' hands clutched the back of James' shirt. His knuckles were white. His eyes were blurry.

"You-you've always been the better writer," Tom's voice was rough from tears. "Don't...Don't leave me too."

James didn't.

* * *

 

_ He was treading waters far too deep, he was- _

_ Was he alone? _

_ No, no, he had- _

_ But- _

* * *

 

It was one hell of a fight.

A fight that James won. 

Nightmares of coffins haunted him for years after, but James pulled through.

James was in remission. 

James was going to live. 

But why did Thomas feel so numb? Even when there was a smile plastered to his face as James cried into his hands in relief, he felt hollow.

He's gone through too much in too little time.

* * *

 

He and James sat next to each other on a bench deep in the woods of the Jefferson estate. He wants to confide James in these feelings, but one glance over at the other man, he knows his best friend feels the same.

"James?" Thomas asked quietly while he looked up to James' face. 

"Yeah."

"Why must we abide by the rules of our soulmates?"

"We don't have to," James was closer than before, meeting his eyes. "They chose to."

"We don't have to," Thomas repeated, taking a hand to cup his best friend's jaw. "Do we?"

"We don't," The tallest affirmed, his own hand finding Thomas' side, covering where the words from the god-forsaken soulmate mark. "We don't."

They didn't.

They did not kiss with passion, they did not kiss with sadness, they did not kiss chastely, nor did they kiss deeply. They kissed as they were, because that is all they would ever be.

They would be together.

* * *

 

They were happy.

They were together.

Then it happened. Because, god, it always happens.

Right when something good was happening, the other shoe always drops. 

Drops to the floor and puts cracks into the cement.

* * *

 

It wasn't as bad as any other time, Thomas supposed, as during the middle of science in his senior year, Thomas couldn't breathe.

He fell from his desk, a hand covering his throat. 

He was drowning.

There were footsteps. 

But he was drowning.

There was arms around him.

But he was drowning.

He wanted to laugh. 

Laugh so loud his bitterness could be heard all over before the seizing panic set in. Through the link. His chest was constricting, burning.

Thomas' hands were no longer at his neck, but around a warm body, but he still couldn't breathe-

He blacked out a few minutes later.

But he couldn't seem to die.

* * *

 

"Thomas? Can you hear me? It's James, I-I found her, my soulmate. She helped me get you to the nurse in class. But, I want you to know...I love you. I don't think I could ever love anyone more than you. You are my world. We're back in the hospital, again. I didn't think we would ever have to come here again. And-and our letters came in, the ones for Colombia? We got in; the moment we graduate we can run away, just the two of us. We'll work it out."

There was shuffling. 

"God, Tom, wake up, please."

* * *

 

And he did.

A few hours later, he came to again. Not feeling anything other than determined.

Maybe it was his soulmate.

Maybe it was James.

Whatever it was, he was at home packing for after graduation. 

Two more weeks. Then they're free. He already has the money.

James has some of his own.

They will do it if it is the last thing they do.

* * *

 

"Oh my god," James laughed loudly, his grin wide as the ocean. "My soulmate is ace!"

"Oh my god you have a platonic soulmate!" Thomas grinned, throwing his arms around James' neck. "Thank god!"

"One more week."

"One more week."

* * *

 

Thomas felt wonderful.

He felt like he could rule the world.

With James at his side they were unstoppable. 

His soulmate was elated as well, he could feel it running through his veins. 

They had gone through hell, but they made it out.

(They wrote their way out.)

* * *

 

Dolly wanted to stay with James, which was understandable. They hugged, they smiled.

They were best friends.

Thomas was so happy they had another one to add to the gang.

And they were all moving into an apartment right outside of campus, as Dolly already set on becoming a police officer, and James and Thomas having classes of law to attend. 

Things were good. Things were great. 

He could breathe, the shore was in sight.

* * *

 

Thomas was walking around campus once they had settled into their apartment, James off shopping, Dolly at police academy. 

He found himself in a rally, or a speech, or something, but there was a really nice looking guy who was shouting a beautiful series of words and it made his blood pump with energy and determination.

The Hispanic on stage met his eyes as he spoke the next lines.

"We live in a time of broken heroes, and golden men, we want our heroes to come save us, but they are so corrupt that the average man shall have to save himself. So what must we do? We will make heroes out of ourselves; will we rise to the top or shall we glance back to these days with shame? Shall we sit and squabble over who is the leader? Or will we become our own light and rebel from these chains that hold us down?"

Those words were scrawled on his chest, in loopy, sharp handwriting.

"Shall we rise to the occasion and make our own heroes? Who says we have not? The people are doing the best we can in these desperate times; there are heroes among us who have done brilliant deeds without a cent of recognition. They are the light, we do not have to carve our faces into the mountains to be heroes," Thomas shouted back, a wide smile on his face. 

The man ran a hand through his hair and stepped down as another man took the stage.

* * *

 

Soulmates.

James.

Soulmates. 

_ James. _

* * *

 

"Alexander Hamilton," Alexander spoke, walking up to Thomas a few moments later, "You speak well."

"Thomas Jefferson, and you do as well, but we have much to talk about," Thomas sighed, rubbing his shoulder with his hand in circles- a nervous tick he gained as he was getting clean. 

"Class starts in two weeks. We have time," Alexander led Thomas to a secluded bench not far from the rally, where he could still hear shouting. 

There was silence underneath the trees that lent them shade.  

"I'm sorry," They spoke at the same time, quiet, but echoing. 

Alex laughed, "You first, I-I have a lot to say."

"I knew you would," Thomas rubbed the back of his neck. "I-I am with someone else."

"James," Alexander supplied, startling the taller man. "You think of him often, with so much gusto I got the name echoing through my head on occasion. I-" He laughed, "-I met another James, one not too long ago, and I was drawn to him because of the name, imagine that?"

"Are you okay with that?" Thomas whispered, he hadn't thought this through. Wait, yes he had, he didn't care. He didn't care. He didn't care.

"As long as I get to meet him."

* * *

 

"When I was twelve my mother and I got terribly sick, she died not long after."

"After I was in the hospital from that sickness, I got hooked on painkillers, James helped me through."

"And James..."  
"James found out he had lung cancer, but the chemo worked, he's in remission...I was terrified."

"I know. I know."

"The numbness...?"

"My cousin...He took in my brother and I...he resorted to suicide, my brother and I were separated...The love?"

"James, always James."

"I can't wait to meet him."

"The- the water?"

"A hurricane."

They met eyes for a moment before pulling each other into a tight hug.

"Not together, but forever," Thomas said quietly.

"Forever together, forever apart," Alex replied.

* * *

 

Forever was a concept that many hold close to their heart. 

Together in love.

Together in life.

Together in death.

James and Thomas have always been forever, even when not together.

Alex and Thomas will always have forever, and they will grow together.

* * *

 

"Can we share?" Alex laughed as he sat with James, the both of them nursing beers a few months later. They were underage, but it was college. "He's so wonderful."

James was bent over himself laughing as Thomas tried to dance to Ke$ha, "Yeah-" He took a deep breath. "-We can share."

Thomas tripped over his own feet and fell down into Dolly's lap.

Dolly sighed, patting Thomas' head sympathetically. 

All was good.

For now, at least.

**Author's Note:**

> Or, in which Thomas is in a lot of pain and wants to go home.


End file.
